


Your Name Like An Epiphany

by Atsvie



Series: SoulMate!AU [1]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atsvie/pseuds/Atsvie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has always had the name etched into the flesh of his wrist. Usually Soul Names are an inky scrawl or delicate script, but his is a jagged scar. The skin is raised in white lines, crooked letters that spell out the name ‘WADE’ in all capital letters like his soulmate is screaming to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Name Like An Epiphany

Peter has always had the name etched into the flesh of his wrist. Usually Soul Names are an inky scrawl or delicate script, but his is a jagged scar. The skin is raised in white lines, crooked letters that spell out the name ‘WADE’ in all capital letters like his soulmate is screaming to him.

Part of him wants to wait, but years pass and he spends too much time frustrated that the name carved into his skin doesn’t belong to a strong blonde girl whose wrist is ominously blank with ivory, clean skin. It should have been Gwen, Peter thinks to himself, that way she would have a permanent place stitched into this life and not be finding her mate in death’s arms.

Life catches up with him, though. Not everything revolves around the name on his wrist; he becomes a student, a hero, a man. He lets the red and blue suit blanket the reminder, taking another skin that bares a spider, not ‘WADE’, in the form of a superhero that doesn’t bind him to aching for that one person.

His Soul Name used to be a promise, but now that Peter has grown into his own and become strong enough on his own, he feels like it’s an impending branding.

So there’s a certain rebelliousness that comes with blatantly ignoring the entire soul mate ordeal, like pretending Wade is nothing but a curious name and not a person that is living and breathing and waiting for him with Peter’s name on his skin.

Peter doesn’t want to think about it. He had other things on his mind, like the noisy merc that has taken to following him around between (and during, for that matter) fighting crime. Deadpool is loud and crude and everything that Peter isn’t—he might just crave that a little, the chaos and ability to survive under any condition.

“I could see you sewing in nifty little tags in your suit,” Deadpool teases one day, knocking shoulders with him. Their feet dangle precariously off the edge of the roof they’re sitting on and Peter likes this, even though Deadpool keeps pretending he’s going to push him off the edge like Spider-Man can’t web himself back up.

“This is a quality suit, thank you. Artisan crafted by the one and only Spider-Man,” Peter retorts. The letters on his wrist itch, they burn under the fabric of his suit but he desperately ignores it because hanging out with mercenaries on a roof may not be his fate but this is what he wants to do with his life—not worry about the Soul Name. 

Deadpool hunches over in laughter. “Lemme guess. You actually labeled it property of Spidey.”

Peter snorts, not even thinking through his response before the words are spilling out of his lips. “No, that’s stupid. Property of Peter, obviously. No one knows who Spider-Man is.”

It takes about a half a second for him to realize that he completely contradicted the whole secret identity thing. But it’s just his first name, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Deadpool pauses, his body tensing and freezing next to him. His voice sounds off kilter, like he’s been punched in the gut and trying to force the air back into his lungs. “Your name is Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to go,” Deadpool says, his words a jumbled rush as he trips over himself to get to his feet. Peter blinks behind his mask, not having enough time to ask what the hell is wrong with him before the merc vanishes to wherever psychopaths go.

That was weird, Peter thinks to himself, trying to map out a possible connection between his name and whatever freaked the other out. It had to be the secret identity ordeal, he finally decides, kicking his heels against the bricks. Which is understandable, but he can’t shake the the way Deadpool’s voice wavered.

.

.

He can’t see it anymore. He actually hasn’t been able to see it for years now, but he memorized it before the scars covered every inch of his skin. He burned the way that the ‘P’ was scripted over the other letters into his mind, the way the letters curled into each other in a messy scribble.

He can still see the name inked onto his wrist despite that when he presses the pad of his thumb over the spot, he’s only met with scars. He’s tried carving it back in, but it just fades away with the healing. No matter how many layers of scars he loses, Wade can’t bring the word, ‘Peter’ back to the surface.

The only thing scarier than losing his Soul Name, Wade thinks as he stares at his wrist, is having found his soul mate and not deserving him in the slightest.


End file.
